Why Fangirls Should Never Have Creative License
by Elven Labyrinth
Summary: Caution: 5th book spoilers. Ever thought of something so stupid and so funny it just need to be in print? Too cowardly to be the one associated with such a thing? Have no fear, I am here! Welcome to something so funny and pointless you'll wet yourself
1. Stage 1 of trauma: unconsciousness

Why Fangirls Should Never Be Given Creative License  
  
Chapter One: A Trip to Hogwarts  
  
It was a lovely British day that dawned on the lovely British school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The entertaining and British students were wandering about the castle at random, studying, skipping class, and making out in the hallways. Of course, none of these other students could be seen because HARRY POTTER was out and about on this particular lovely British day.  
  
Harry, in his new role as an angst-laden teenager, was berating his friends for their behavior.   
  
"Why are you two always fighting? Don't you realize that I, the boy with the magical scar, am in deep angst! Sirius has just kicked off and I'm deeply depressed!"  
  
Hermione, in her bushy-haired brilliant glory, rolled her eyes. "You're deeply depressed? You, my friend, have yet to hit puberty. Ron and I on the other hand, are fighting to keep our raging hormones in check for your convenience. So please, either magick yourself into puberty or SHUT UP." She flounced off, brown hair bouncing wildly around her shoulders. This naturally caught the attention of lesser male characters that were busy entertaining of thoughts of riding her robes (figuratively or literally, reader's discretion) and fighting their raging hormones.  
  
Ron was too busy practicing his "I'm so petrified" face to pay much attention to Hermione's amazingly astute outburst. "What do you think of this one Harry Potter? Too much?" He opened his mouth as wide as possible. Then he closed it. "Of course, it'll be a lot more effective with my new and improved manly scream."  
  
Harry ignored him. "Too busy being angst-y. Can't chat." He sped up, and crossed the amazingly disproportionate lawn to enter the magnificent halls of Hogwarts. Once in the halls, Harry Potter was on the lookout for anyone he could somehow attack, and then turn the situation around so that he would come out smelling like roses.  
  
Unfortunately, the only person in the hall was that hunky Potions Master SEVERUS SNAPE. "Potter." He sneered, and every girl nearby was swept away by the flood of raging hormones.  
  
Harry thought about doing something horrible to that hunky Potions Master Severus Snape. After all, he wouldn't be the first one to be absolutely wretched to that poor misunderstood hunky Potions Master. But then again, Snape was talented as well as hunky, and picking on the talented as well as hunky was sure to get him murdered somehow.  
  
"Snivellus!" Harry replied cheerfully, bounding away before he could be murdered somehow.  
  
The hunky Potions Master was of course, inwardly crushed by Harry Potter's standard cruel deviant behavior. "If I wasn't such a man of honor, I'd totally run back to Voldemort and go back to my evil ways. But since I AM one of the good guys…" he trailed off. The hunky Potions Master would've sworn he had heard a chorus of fangirl coos. Then he shook his magnificent and appealing hair out of his gorgeous and moody face. "As I AM one of the good guys, I'll assist him while all the while secretly cheering for his demise." With a dramatic flourish of his swirling black robes, the hunky Potions Master slinked down the basement to brood in peace.  
  
Having done his daily duty in annoying the hunky Potions Master, Harry Potter tra-la-la-la-la'ed off to the Gryffindor common room. Being that this was Harry Potter's world that ran on Harry Potter's rules, Hermione and Ron were eagerly awaiting his arrival. The other students in the room were of no importance because they were lowly minor-characters who had no part of the plot at all.  
  
The bushy-haired genius was buried in a pile of books, parchment, and confiscated items (seeing as how she was a prefect and a law-abiding citizen). She looked up to give Harry the customary "You-Would-Be-So-SCREWED-If-I-Wasn't-Such-A-Saint-And-Lent-You-My-Notes-AND-Checked-Your-Homework" look. Then she dove back into her studies, for she was a bushy-haired genius.  
  
Ron was busy not doing his work. "Oi Harry! Meet some girl who was randomly Sorted into our House at the wrong time AND the wrong year!" He said cheerfully, for the randomly sorted girl was paying the utmost attention to him.  
  
Harry stared at the strange girl. "...and you are?"  
  
"Can't talk. Busy loving Ron." she replied.  
  
Harry shook his head. If he couldn't get attention in the Gryffindor common room, then he would go wandering the halls in search of recognition.  
  
Being that it was the magical world of Harry Potter, and the laws of physics and nature didn't apply, it was night when Harry Potter began his pointless rambling around the lovely British school of witchcraft and wizardry.  
  
It was in these hallowed halls of magical learning that he stumbled on yet another randomly sorted girl. And the horror that ensued...oh the horror that ensued!  
  
The randomly sorted girl was in Slytherin colors. That wasn't so bad, even though she was amazingly attractive. No...the worse part was that the randomly sorted girl in Slytherin colors was attached to the lips to the hunky Potions Master. But Harry, being the quick thinker that he was, managed to come up with a smooth and believable response.  
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"  
  
The randomly sorted Slytherin girl finally detached herself from the hunky Potions Master's delectible lips. "Scuse much, but you're ruining my make-out time with the hottest male character in this whole bloody school."  
  
Snape gave her a gentle rap on the head with his beautifully sculpted hands. "Language, my wonderful self-inserted authoress."  
  
Harry managed to stop screaming. "Your what?"  
  
The randomly sorted Slytherin girl rolled her eyes and gave a gusty sigh. She somehow managed to pull herself out of the hunky Potions Master's arms. She stuck out her hand. "Hi. I'm EL, the wonderfully talented and stunningly beautiful self-inserted babe of this story. I'm writing this even as I'm introducing myself to you, and if you choose to anger me, I can have you dropped into a pit of boiling acid faster than you can say 'bloody hell'."  
  
Harry took her hand, feeling somewhat numb.  
  
"Yes, the numbness is from the absolute shock of being introduced to something so lovely that you can't have." EL smiled pleasantly. Her short auburn hair seemed to move of its own accord, giving the illusion of some long-lost heroine caught in a non-existant breeze. "It must suck for you to lose fabulous lil me to the hunky and talented Potions Master." She shrugged.  
  
Snape blushed.  
  
EL continued. "But fanfic-life is just like that." she pulled her hand away, and waved it in general dismissal. "Now if you'll excuse me, Severus and I must be getting back to our illicit affair." she grabbed a handful of Snape's wicked black robes, and they disappeared.  
  
Harry continued to wander around the school in a daze. The horrible but beautiful EL was somehow working with Voldemort. She just had to be. No one could be that pretty and that evil and not working for Voldemort.   
  
His feet led him to the Quidditch pitch, after much arguing that went something like this:  
  
Left foot: Forbidden Forest!  
  
Right foot: Absolutely not! I got a pine needle right in the sole, I'm not going back there!  
  
Left foot: Baby!  
  
Right foot: Suck my toe jam!  
  
Of course, Harry was oblivious to his arguing feet. Once they (meaning his feet) had made up their collective mind and taken him to the Quidditch pitch, Harry was once again stunned and otherwise visually assaulted.  
  
Oliver Wood and another randomly sorted girl were making out in the middle of the pitch. This random girl was in Gryffindor colors.  
  
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...again!"  
  
The random girl in Gryffindor colors gave him the same disgusted and annoyed look EL of Slytherin had given him. "Ok, you're interrupting my much need Oliver-time." she said huffily.  
  
Oliver Wood grinned cheekily (but it's not like he ever had any other way of grinning, that adorable little guy with the cute accent). "Oi Harry!"  
  
"But...you graduated!"  
  
Oliver Wood raised one bushy eyebrow. "Soo...You haven't run into EL have you?"  
  
"I did......" Harry replied dumbly.  
  
The random girl in Gryffindor colors rolled her eyes. Then she got out her wand. "Lemme spell it out so you can go away faster." she started waving her wand in a complicated matter. Silvery white words flowed from its tip.   
  
Harry began to read:  
  
EL IS WRITING A WONDERFUL BEAUTIFUL STORY IN WHICH SHE HAS THE MAN OF HER DREAMS AND I, THE INCREDIBLY WACKY BUT ADORABLE VIRGINIA GET MINE. NOW GET LOST BEFORE I CURSE YOUR NOSE ONTO YOUR BUTT.  
  
Harry decided it was high time to leave. He made it back to the Gryffindor common room virtually unscathed. Sadly, it would be the last horrible slash of the evening, for he would pass out from shock.  
  
Afterall, what sane person could walk in on Hermione and Draco making out and not pass out? 


	2. He's got his hands down low, his briefs ...

Harry Potter was allowed to recover his sanity early the next morning, just in time for the usual melee that is breakfast time in a school. He refused to speak with Hermione (which, to be honest, suited the bushy-haired one just fine, as she was attached at the hip to some other randomly Sorted fan-person), and instead tried to get Ron's attention. It wasn't working well, because Ron's attention was completely, utterly, 100% absorbed by one of the randomly Sorted girls. After discovering that the magickal scar on his forehead was rendered completely useless by the power of the Fan People, Harry Potter stalked out of the breakfast hall and magickally forced time forward a few hours so he could brood near the lake and perhaps get SOMEONE's attention.  
  
Unfortunately, when he reached the lake, it was already crowded with students. This did not suit Harry Potter well, as they weren't paying attention to him. He managed to elbow his way to the front to discover (to much titillation) that the beautiful (but EVIL) EL was having a round with the new improvised DADA teacher. Harry Potter didn't like the new DADA teacher at all--she was mean and nasty to him (though how he knew that when he'd yet to go to class is beyond those of us in the normal realm). He hoped EL would win. In the mean time, he mentally wrote up the long and excrutiatingly detailed account of the fight, as follows:  
  
"EL, in her delicious wickedness, had grabbed the front of Professor Ryong's robes and was making a very good attempt to throw the older woman into the icy cold waters. I know the waters were icy cold because her nipples were visible, even through the thick material of her uniform. She was soaked from head to toe, fabric clinging sinfully to every delicious curve of her too-mature body. The muscles in her legs were taut and glistened with sweat, indicating a very serious battle at hand. Her eyes blazed with fury, and a faint trail of blood could be seen seeping from one delicate nostril of her adorable flared nose. Her lips were parted and teeth visible, except when she paused to yell. When that happened, her mouth opened wide, and it seemed as though his entire world could fit in there...though how to find that out, he wasn't sure. At last she managed to fling the teacher into the water (and since Professor Ryong wasn't at all attractive, she doesn't warrant an excrutiatingly detailed account), and declared her victory. Then that stupid fathead Snape broke onto the scene, helped Ryong out of the water, took poor EL by the arm very roughly, and dragged her off. I hate Snape. I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I--"  
  
Okay, that's enough of that. Everyone who doesn't want to ever take another trip into Harry Potter's mind, please raise your hand and keep it raised for the duration of the chapter.  
  
Anyways, Harry Potter followed Snape and EL back to Snape's wicked dungeon lair. He would rescue the fair Slytherin damesel and maybe then she'd cut him a little slack. He didn't barge into the office, of course, because barging in would have meant that he would miss whatever secret little naughty things they were doing. So he waited outside the door, eye pressed firmly to the crack that Snape had conveniently left. He almost passed out again from what he witnessed--but Hermione and Draco's one-night slash had fortified him against such horrible sights.  
  
Snape was out of his robe (it being wrapped around EL to ward off the vicious chill that seems to permeate every dungeon), hands on his slender waist, and anger mottling (but not ugly-fying) his sexy face. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!" he roared.  
EL was the picture of sexy defiance. "That bitch was making moves on my man, so I busted a move on her skanky ass and sent her packing back to the street corner she hobbled off on, yo."  
"Your ebonics has lost me completely, as I am BRITISH and we don't have that kind of nonsense HERE." Snape pointed out.  
"Her obvious fatal attraction to you irked me, so I beat the holy bloody hell out of her to make sure she got the message." Sydney translated.  
"Oh. Well you know you're not supposed to beat up on teachers." Snape was at a loss for words. That was one of the problems with voluntarily boffing a fanfic artist. They tended to take the words right out of his mouth.  
"I know darling, but she almost got beyond my control, even though this is the first time I've written of her, and I had to do something." EL pouted. "Don't you care that I risked a paper cut for you?"  
He swept her up in his arms, feeling both compelled and delighted to do so. "Of course I do darling. Now allow me to make sweet, passionate love to you right on this desk." Snape said as he used one arm to sweep everything off his desk and deposited her on it.  
"Like I'd ever say no." EL purred.  
  
Harry Potter was at a loss for words. He hadn't seen anything so savage since last month's issue of "Witch Bitches" and "Big Wands, Big Spells". He was thoroughly enjoying himself until the overhead music switched from "bow-chicka-wow-wow" to "dun-dun-DUN". That was his clue that he should zip up and run like hell in the opposite direction for dear life. However, Harry Potter did not get famous by listening to common sense. He stayed.  
  
AN: Okay darling dearest duckies--for those of you who emailed me to get some clarification on points, here goes: I'm making fun of everything from poorly written fanfiction to poorly written SLASH-fiction. It's not going to make sense, it's not going to be clean, and it's not going to be fun...okay, I lied; it'll be fun as all get-out. Just don't expect any logic. Ta! 


End file.
